


Chill Love Is The Best Love: Ziall Drabbles

by StormDancer



Series: One Direction Drabbles [5]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 11,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/StormDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my Ziall drabbles, AU ideas, and other snippets, originally posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of all the Ziall drabbles I've written on Tumblr. Some of them will be long, some short; some won't even be proper drabbles at all, just summaries of what I would write. Mostly unbetaed, so there very well could be some typos, sorry. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Prompt: Niall gets drunk and calls Zayn after reading the billboard article and how Zayn said he wanted to be friends but they haven't replied to Zayn's calls.** _

“You just don’t get it.” 

Zayn swallows. He doesn’t know what he expected, picking up for a UK number, but this–this isn’t it. Not Niall, in the middle of a sentence, or a conversation.

“What?” The gentleness is ingrained; he doesn’t know if he could ever react differently to Niall. And he’s still surprised. 

“You don’t get it,” Niall repeats, and he sounds…tired. Tired, and…

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” Niall replies, easily. “Very drunk. I had to be, see, because I wasn’t going to be able to read it otherwise.” 

“Read what?” This is something Zayn knows how to do; get Niall through his stories when he’s drunk. Usually it’s because he’s so excited for his stories, not this, but it’s the same thing. 

“Your article. Your article. Legend, man, you got your own billboard article. Gonna get your own music. You sound happy.” Zayn bites his lip, leans back on his bed. Right. He should have guessed. He meant everything he said in that article, but after five years he shouldn’t be surprised people misconstrued things he said. 

“I am happy,” he says, cautiously.

It gets a laugh, but not a Niall laugh. Not the laugh Zayn still misses, loud and joyful, the one that felt so good to pull from Niall. “’Course you are. I’m happy for you.” Somehow, with Niall, Zayn doesn’t doubt it. “But you don’t get it.” 

“What don’t I get?” Niall’s quiet a second, and Zayn sits up. “Babe? Are you all right? Where are you, is someone there with you–”

“’m fine.” Another one of those aching laughs. “You’re so–why are you still so you?”

“I never changed.” 

“We just never knew, yeah.” Another beat, then. “It wasn’t that easy, to pick up.” 

“What?”

“You said we, like, didn’t pick up your calls. Or, all of us except for Liam. But it wasn’t easy to.”

“It wasn’t easy to call either,” Zayn points out, quick. He’s had too much of this already. 

“I know, I know. But…it hurt, Zee. You left. You couldn’t be happy with us. That hurt.” Niall sounds lost, so lost, and Zayn wants to reach out and pull him into a hug, wants to cuddle him until he’s found his footing like he had for five years. “I wanted you to be happy. But I couldn’t do it. So I couldn’t pick up.” 

That’s not an excuse. If it was anyone else, Zayn would say it. Say that he’d tried, that maybe he’d been an asshole right after, but then he’d started trying, honestly, and there’d been nothing but a brick wall. 

But it’s Niall. Niall, sounding lost and in pain and drunk, but not his usual happy drunk. “I know, babe,” Zayn says, and sighs. “But I do want you back.” 

A wet snort. “Fuck, Zayn. You know you’ve always got me.” 

“Even when you don’t pick up? Even when you need to be trashed to call me?” 

“Always,” Niall says, like a promise. “But–you’ve got to pick up too. I can’t…it’ll hurt too much.” 

“I will,” Zayn promises, and means it. “Get some sleep, babe.” 

“Yeah.” Zayn waits for Niall to hang up, but then, “I miss you,” and the dial tone. 


	2. Chapter 2

_**Prompt: Astronauts who fall in love in space** _

1) They meet in training, on the first day. Niall’s already made friends with everyone on the crew of course, knows the names of their families and pets and favorite movies; Zayn’s more hesitant, hanging back, watching. He’s going to be spending a lot of time in close quarters with these people; he’s not fucking up his chance to go into space because of the people. But that hanging back just challenges Niall, who takes it as his special mission to bring Zayn out of his shell. 

2) Niall realizes he’s in troubles about a month into their trip. Zayn’s sitting at a window, staring out into the infinite blackness, and Niall takes a picture because he can’t not. He’d known Zayn was beautiful before, because he has eyes, but Zayn against space is more than he’d been able to resist. It’s okay, Niall figures. They have about a year left. He can keep it in his pants for a year. 

3) Zayn’s girlfriend broke up with him a few weeks before the mission. “I just don’t see us doing that sort of long distance,” she explained, which he can’t fault, which probably means something anyway. He tells Niall this, one night when they’re both on duty, Niall setting up an experiment and Zayn watching. That and about how he’s not sure he’ll ever find someone, about how much he wants that stablity. It’s the first time he’s told anyone. Niall makes sympathetic sounds, then turns around when he’s finished, and grins like the sun they’ll be able to see soon. “You’ll find one,” he says, certain as the sun coming up, as gravity down on earth. “You’re brilliant. Of course you’ll find someone.” And he’s smiling and then he checks the monitor one more time, his brow furrowed in concentration, and Zayn wonders if he already has found that someone. 

4) Time passes differently, in space. They’re up there a long time and it feels infinite and no time at all. It feels like just yesterday that Niall first got Zayn to laugh, got him to giggle with his nose scrunched up; it feels like he’s known Zayn forever, like they’re binary planets who have always orbited around each other. Zayn’s gotten under Niall’s skin, heard things about Niall no one else has, the secret worries and fears that he just accepts. Niall knows things about Zayn he’s never known about anyone else, like the wonder in his eyes the first time the sun rises over the earth, and the way his skin feels after he’s been on a walk in space. It makes Niall want to know more, so much more, to know what his skin tastes like and if he could get that wonder in other ways–but it’s a spaceship. There’s no privacy, and even if there was, Niall’s not going to risk interpersonal conflict up here. But when they get home…

5) It’s simple, when it happens. They get off the shuttle, stumbling in earth gravity again. They’re debriefed, checked over by the medics, attacked by the press, then sent off. It’s barely morning, as they walk to the bunks; and Zayn reaches out and Niall takes his hand, and that look of wonder is on Zayn’s face again as they kiss under the rising sun. 


	3. Chapter 3

_**Prompt:** ****Gargalesthesia** \- The sensation caused my tickling** _

“Why do you tickle me so—fuck! Fucking much?” Niall yelps, trying to roll away from Zayn. Zayn’s got him properly pinned down, though, and Niall isn’t really trying to get away, is just squirming beneath Zayn’s fingers with one of his brilliant grins on his face and his own hands scrabbling at Zayn, trying to get him back.

Zayn’s not sure what to answer, as he runs his fingers over Niall’s side again. What is he supposed to say? It gives me an excuse to touch you doesn’t quite work, because he doesn’t really need an excuse; I like to watch you squirm is also true, but not all of it. What is really true, but what he can’t say, is that it’s him trying to give back a bit. That this is how Niall makes him feel all the time, like the happiness is bubbling out of him so that he can’t keep it in, like he’s soaked in laughter. Like no matter his mood, Niall can always get him happy again.

“’cause I like to make you laugh,” Zayn says at last, his fingers stilling. He hadn’t meant to sound so serious.

Niall looks seriously up at him too, though there’s still the constant hint of mirth in his eyes. “You always make me laugh, Zed,” he tells him, and it sounds like he understood what Zayn didn’t say.

Then he pokes at Zayn’s nose. “Especially your face,” he adds, with a grin, and Zayn can barely bat his hand away for laughing.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_**Prompt: Abandoned** _

“Zaaaaaayn,” Niall’s yell is loud in Zayn’s ear, given that the ring woke him up, but he just winces.

“What’s up?”

“Zaaayn,” Niall yells again. He’s still laughing, but he’s drunk as fuck, Zayn can tell. “Zayn where are you?”

“I’m home, babe.” Zayn pushes his hair out of his face, scrubs his hand over his eyes to wake himself up. “Where’re you?”

“Somewhere?” He hears Niall yell, into what sounds like a crowd, “Where am I?” and the name of a bar comes back. “There! That’s where I am.”

“Great.” Zayn yawns. Niall’s not usually one for drunk calling, so he waits until he gets around to why he’s really calling.

“I think Lou and Liam left,” Niall goes on, sure enough. He’s quieter now—no less drunk, but a hint of the quiet that he hides from most of the world sneaking through. “I can’t find them and I’m really fucking wasted and I don’t know anyone here.”

“Can’t you make some friends?” Niall makes friends like he breathes.

“It’s not the same,” Niall retorts. “Not like you lot. Where’d they go, Zayn?”

“I’m sure they’re around.” He pulls out his phone to text Liam, demanding to know where he went, why he left Niall. “They wouldn’t leave you there.”

“I think they did, Zayn,” Niall argues, “You’re gonna, right? We’re gonna leave.”

“Okay, stay there.” That’s quite enough of that. “Don’t leave the bar, okay babe?”

“Why?

“I’m coming to get you.” Zayn drags himself out of bed, gropes for his glasses. “And I won’t be able to find you if you move.” He doesn’t care if Louis and Liam are probably still there, if Niall’s drunk and morose. He’s not leaving Niall alone.

“You’re coming?” Niall echoes.

“Yeah.” He drags on a jacket. “I’ll be there in a bit, okay? I promise.”

“Okay.” Niall sighs, then, “Can you stay on the phone with me until then?”

“Sure,” Zayn agrees, gently. “Want to tell me what you guys did tonight?”

“It was legend!” Niall starts, enthusiastic, and Zayn nods and listens to him talk, until he can go get him.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Prompt:** **Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.** _

Niall’s giving Zayn time to think about it. He’s always known he’d need to give Zayn that, because he’s a brooder. But he’s also giving himself time to think.

He hadn’t thought before, when he kissed Zayn. That had been impulse, both of them drunk and silly in Niall’s room, and Niall had kissed him before he had thought. It hadn’t been a surprise, and Zayn hadn’t taken it as one, pressing back with an open mouth and a casual, easy pressure. But then he had pulled back, and looked at Niall with those pretty, pretty eyes, and Niall hadn’t been too drunk to know he had already started to think about it.

He’s still thinking about it. Niall can read it in the sidelong looks he gives him, in the gentle touches he strokes down Niall’s arm, in the smirks he sometimes sends his way that go, as they always have, right to Niall’s dick.

But now—now Niall’s thinking about it too. Really thinking about it. He’s carefree, but he thinks—he hopes—he’s not careless, not with the important things. And this is important.

Not just because it’s his boys, and there’s nothing more important to him than them except for like, his family. And that’s a risk, if it doesn’t work out, because while Niall could laugh it off, or learn to live with the hurt, he knows Zayn couldn’t. Zayn takes everything to heart, and if it all went wrong, and the other boys had to take sides…it couldn’t end pretty.

And it’s not just that, not just his friends. It’s his career too. If the band split up—he can’t go solo. He’s aware of that. Maybe Harry could, maybe Zayn, but not him. It’s not something he’s bothered about. Maybe he could go, him and his guitar on the road, but not like this, and Niall likes his life. And the same thing goes if it came out—maybe the band would survive, maybe it wouldn’t. But it could all go wrong.

It nags at Niall, that, and he doesn’t like things nagging at him. But it puts things in perspective. He can be carefree because he doesn’t really take risks. He lets things roll off his back, lets himself just be, because he’s never really done anything that got people properly mad. Zayn—Zayn, for all he’s quiet, Zayn’s not cautious, not really. Zayn will go off at people for pushing Niall, will get into fights to defend himself, refuses to quit smoking for their image or to not talk about his religion or anything. Niall loves him for it, for the fire that burns deep beneath his calm exterior, but Niall’s not like that. He loves Zayn, he does, but risking everything he has…

He’ll have to tell Zayn no. Tell him now, before he’s finished thinking about it, so it won’t hurt him. Say he was drunk and it was a laugh and Zayn will laugh and pretend to believe him because he’ll respect Niall’s decision even if it hurts him, because he always thinks Niall should do what he wants.

Niall slides off the bed of his hotel room, pulls open his door—and Zayn is standing there, hand raised to knock. Niall doesn’t have to ask to know what that means. He can read it in Zayn’s face, in the tilt of his chin and soft look in his eyes and the way he’s biting at his lower lip like he’s nervous. He can see it in the smile hinting at the corners of his lips.

Niall blinks. Zayn is really dazzlingly good looking sometimes, so Niall just can’t think when he looks at him. Now isn’t one of those times, but the sight of him is still heart-stopping, in sweatpants and a tank top with his hair messy like he’s been running his hands through it, and Niall just pauses for a second. Thinks about what it had been like to kiss him. Thinks about how nice it is to be with him.

Then, “Fuck it,” he mutters, and grabs at Zayn’s shirt to pull him in.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Prompt: are you high Niall?** _

“Yep!” Niall laughs, and burrows closer into Zayn’s shirt. He’s warm, and Zayn’s warm, and he thinks he’d like to live here, in the circle of Zayn’s arm, with Zayn beaming at him like that, like Niall being there is as amazing as Zayn is. “Hiiiiiigh.” 

“Sound like Haz.” Niall pokes at his chest, because it’s there and it’s what they do, and Zayn chuckles. “You and Lou smoking without me.” 

“Yep!” Niall says again. “Wish you coulda been there, coulda shotgunned.” 

Zayn’s throat’s got all these veins, and Niall traces them as he swallows. “Yeah, we could have. You okay?” 

“‘course.” Niall flops over, loose and floaty like only good weed can get him, and brushes a kiss to Zayn’s cheek, because he always wants to and it seems like a good idea right now. His lips are there too, that’s probably a good thing to kiss as well, so he does, and remembers too late that he’s not allowed.


	7. Chapter 7

Niall is taking this road trip to find himself, and he is, he’s figuring out who he is without One Direction for the first time since he was seventeen, and he’s enjoying himself–but then one day he finds himself at a souvenir stand, and there’s a postcard, and he thinks, almost out of the blue, that Zayn would like it. He hasn’t talked to Zayn in months, but there’s something about the foreign country, the peace Niall’s been feeling, that makes Niall buy it, then drop it in the mail. He only realizes later he didn’t even write anything on it. 

He does later, though. Because he keeps sending them, postcards from everywhere he’s been, the ones he thinks Zayn will appreciate: beautiful vistas, weird artsy ones, stupid jokes. And he puts messages on some of of them. ‘Saw the cutest dog today’. ‘Climbed a mountain! It was beautiful.’ ‘Just tried alligator. You’d have hated it’. Silly things. Little things. Whatever comes to mind, never the big important things–the ‘I wish I could have made you happy’. the ‘I’m so proud of what you’re doing, I always knew you could.’ the ‘I miss you do you miss me?’ He doesn’t even know if Zayn’s getting them, or what he’s doing with them if he is–there’s certainly no reaching out from Zayn, but it’s not like Zayn could mail something back, and Niall had to change his number from the last one Zayn had–but he likes sending them. Likes feeling that bit of connection, even if it’s one sided.

 Then he ends up in LA, in his circuit of the world, and he stops by and sees Harry and everyone else in LA, and out of habit, and maybe a bit of hope, he grabs a Hollywood postcard. He should send it, it’d be easy, but maybe he’s masochistic, maybe he wants to see how Zayn’s doing, so he goes to his house. He only means to slip it under the door (or in the mailbox by the gate, i don’t know how rich people live), but he’s just about to when the door opens, and Zayn’s there, smiling. It’s a shock and it’s not a shock at all, because Zayn is still Zayn, it’s still the smile he only gave to Niall, and Niall’s heart does the same thump-twist that it always did, when Zayn smiled at him like that. 

“Was wondering when you’d make your way to California,” Zayn drawls, and takes the postcard out of Niall’s grasp. “Have a good trip?” he adds, and holds the door open for Niall to come in. 

It turns out there’s a whole wall, Niall’s postcards tacked against it in something like a map, a collage of the places Niall was, his thoughts, his journey. 

“Liked keeping track of you,” Zayn says, with a shrug and a sheepish smile. “Liked feeling like I was a bit along for the ride.” 

A year ago, Niall wouldn’t have known what to say, was too lost in the face of everything that was his world collapsing–but he knows who he is now, he’s seen the world with One Direction and without it, and he knows that either way, he likes it best here, with Zayn next to him, smiling soft and hopeful. “You’ll have to come with me properly next time,” Niall tells him, and Niall’s seen the world twice over and nothing will ever be as beautiful as the smile Zayn gives him. 


	8. Chapter 8

**_Prompt:_ " _No one needs to know.”_**

Niall hadn’t thought Zayn could get any better looking. It was like, you don’t get better than infinity, because Zayn’s already the hottest person he’d ever seen. But apparently you can, because he’s never seen Zayn like this, lounging naked on Niall’s bed, looking sex-mussed and fucked out. Niall just wishes he could appreciate it properly.

“Babe.” Zayn’s hand wraps around his wrist. Niall looks down at it. “What’s up?”

“I–it’s just–nothing.” Niall shakes his head, grins. “Thinking how hot you look.”

“No, you’re freaking out.” Zayn’s look is even, and Niall sort of wishes Zayn didn’t know him so well. Couldn’t see through him like he could. But that leads into wishing he wasn’t Zayn, and that this hadn’t happened, and regrets just pile on in a way that makes Niall’s heart start going too fast, and not in a good way. “Niall, breathe.” He’s kneeling now, in front of Niall, his hand on Niall’s shoulder. It’d be normal except for how he’s naked, and he’s naked because they just slept together Niall just slept with Zayn, who is Zayn and a guy and Zayn. “Do you want me to leave?”

Yes. No. Both. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Zayn’s lips twist. “This doesn’t have to be scary, Ni. We can say it never happened. No one ever has to know.”

There’s a part of Niall that wants that. That wants to forget how Zayn’s skin had felt against his, how his mouth had felt around Niall’s cock, the sounds he made when he came. To just forget last night was a thing. Then they can be Zayn and Niall again, and it’ll be easy and not make Niall feel like everything is twisting like this. But then–he doesn’t want to forget any of that. He wants more of it. He wants to remember Zayn laughing like he had when Niall had blown a raspberry against his stomach, how he’d smiled into the kiss after. He wants to know more about Zayn, not less.

“I don’t know,” Niall says again. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. “I can’t–my parents, Zayno, I’m not sure–and the boys–I hadn’t even–”

“Breathe,” Zayn says again. He’s very distractingly naked. This would be a lot easier if he weren’t. If Niall didn’t still want to push him back down onto the bed, forget about his anxieties and fears and just enjoy this. “I’m sorry, yeah?”

“Sorry?” Niall repeats. Is he–does he regret it? This probably isn’t what he expected, Niall freaking out, not what he wanted. It’s Zayn, after all, he could have anyone he wanted, why would he settle for Niall and his confusion–

“I rushed you.” Zayn glances away from Niall, his eyes on the bed now. Like he’s scared. Somehow, it makes Niall feel better. He knows how to help Zayn be less scared. He’s good at that. Remembering that he’s good at something helps. “I knew this wasn’t, like, something you were entirely comfortable with, and I still…”

“No. You didn’t.” Niall knows that part. It hadn’t been planned, and he hadn’t really had time to think about it as much as he’d have liked, but this hadn’t been Zayn rushing him. This had been him jumping in too fast. This had been him unable to believe the reality of Zayn sticking close to him, his eyes on Niall’s lips like he wanted to kiss Niall like Niall wanted to kiss him, beneath everything, and not wanting to let go of that feeling.

Zayn shakes his head. “I did. And now–I’ll do whatever you need. If you need me to give you space, I can stay away, or I can help you talk it through, or we can go get drunk again, or I can–”

“Just…” Niall takes a long breath. In and out. Like he’s supposed to, when he’s feeling like that. What does he need to deal with this. Before he starts making lists, thinking about the logistics, making plans. What does he need under that?

He looks at Zayn, who’s waiting patiently, all big eyes and sex-messy hair. There’s a mark on his shoulder, from where Niall had gotten a little carried away. But more even than that, is the way he’s looking back at Niall, like he’d wait forever. Like he’d do anything to help Niall. Like he’s the boy that Niall wants, despite all the twisted feelings around that. “Stay?”

Zayn’s face breaks into a smile, one of the huge, bright smiles that Niall likes to think only he can get from Zayn, his eyes nearly glowing. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“And cuddle?” Niall asks, maybe smiling a little, and Zayn doesn’t reply, just lets Niall tug him in, arranges them so they’re pressed close. Maybe it should be weird, because Zayn’s naked and Niall just has boxers on, but it’s so normal. Comforting. Grounding. He times his breathing to Zayn’s, in and out, in and out. In and out. Everything else will come later, and he can feel that cloud hovering, pushed back just out of reach, but for right now he can breathe with Zayn, and it’ll be alright.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Prompt: Reacting to the other one crying about something_ **

Zayn hears a thump, then a crash,  and he’s moving before he even thinks about it, his computer shoved onto the bed and blankets pushed away. 

Niall’s in the kitchen, on the floor, his crutches beside him, and a broken plate next to him. 

“Shit, babe. You okay?” Zayn crouches next to him, staring at his knee like he’ll be able to x-ray it like that, see if anything more is wrong. “Did you fall?”

“No.” Niall’s voice is tight. Frustrated. It’s been like this a lot, while he’s on crutches. He puts on a good show, that it’s all fine and the surgery went well and physical therapy is going well, but not everyone pays attention like Zayn does, and he’s seen Niall getting tenser and tenser, on edge like he so rarely is. “I didn’t–I just dropped the plate. Got onto the floor all by myself. Least I can do that.” 

“I would have made you food, if you were hungry.” If Zayn had his way, Niall would be sitting on the couch all day, resting his leg while everyone else waited on him, but Niall had nixed that plan the first day, laughing at him with a flush in his cheeks. “I’ll clean this up, then–shit.” There are tears on Niall’s cheeks. “Niall, what–”

“It’s fine. I can do it.” He dashes away his tears. But it’s not Niall like it usually is, not even Niall when he’s sad, the way he tries to hide it behind laughter. The words come out clipped. Angry. 

He reaches for his crutches, and Zayn hands them to him, straightening up. He just wants Niall to stop hurting. But he doesn’t know how. Doesn’t know how to make this better for him, and he hates it. So he can only hover, as Niall slowly, painfully, levers himself to his feet. 

“See?” There’s a bit more of a smile on his face, once he’s up. “Did it. Now I can just make us that lunch I was planning on…” he reaches up to the cupboard, stretching in a way that makes Zayn want to steady him. But he stays back, and watches as Niall pushes himself up, gets a hand on a jar of jelly–and then overbalances, falling back. His hand yanks the jelly out of place, and Zayn’s catching Niall’s hips to make sure doesn’t fall when the jelly crashes to the ground. 

“Fuck!” It rings out, loud and angry. Zayn keeps his arms wrapped around Niall, but Niall’s staring at the red jelly, the broken glass. “Fuck fuck fuck.” 

“It’s okay, babe. I’ll clean it up.” 

“It’s not okay!” Niall snaps, and Zayn manages not to wince away. He can take some anger. “I’m so fucking useless. I can’t even make us lunch. Why are you even still here, I can’t do anything, I can’t–I can’t–”

“Babe,” Zayn breathes, and then Niall’s turning in his arms and collapsing into him, his face buried into Zayn’s neck, his whole body sagging. Zayn keeps his arms around him, holds him up. Strokes over his back, trying for comforting. 

“It’s just–it’s so frustrating,” Niall mutters, into Zayn’s skin. “This was supposed to make me better, but now I can’t do anything, and I hate feeling like this. Helpless, like.” 

“I know.” Zayn presses a kiss to his temple. He can’t do anything, really. He can’t make this hurt go away, as much as he hates that. “So you’re gonna go sit on the couch and watch whatever sports are on, and I’m gonna clean this up and make you that lunch.” 

“You shouldn’t have to.” That tightness is back, the self-directed frustration Zayn abhors. “You shouldn’t have to do everything for me, I shouldn’t be making you–”

“Think of it as payback for all the times I’ve been a lazy ass and made you make me food.” Zayn kisses his temple again, then his hair. “This won’t be forever.”

“Feels like it.” 

“It won’t be.” Zayn promises. He’s going to believe that, if Niall can’t. “Just let me take care of you for now, yeah? You don’t let me do that enough, the mother hen in me’s going mad.”

Niall lifts his head. His eyes are a little bloodshot, but at least he’s not actively crying. “I’ll make you the best brunch ever, when I can.”

“I know.” Zayn wipes the remnants of the tears away. “Now go find a game. I’ll bring you lunch in a bit.” 

“Yeah.” Niall shifts back on his crutches, finds his footing. It’s only once he’s sure he has it that Zayn lets go. “Zee–thanks. I know I’m a shit patient. And you’ve been great.” 

Zayn just stares at Niall. It’s like he doesn’t know that Zayn would do anything for him. That he’d bring him the sun if it would make him feel better. That Niall deserves the sun, and the moon, and anything else he wants. “Of course.” He says, because he can’t say all that, not now. “Anything you need.” 


	10. Chapter 10

_**Prompt: Cuddling in a blanket fort?** _

“This is a work of genius, you know. We shoulda been engineers.” 

“I’m shit with numbers. Wouldn’t have made it,” Zayn mumbles. He’s half-asleep already, his head resting on Niall’s chest. Niall can’t really see him, in the darkness of their blanket fort, but he doesn’t need to see to know what Zayn’s tone means, how he’s breathing. Niall runs his hand over Zayn’s forearm, tracing the tattoos there by memory. 

“You’d have been great,” he protests. “Best engineer around. Building skyscrapers and shit.” 

He can hear Zayn’s smile, now. “Nah. You’d’ve been the engineer, like. I’d be your kept man.” 

“I think you’re overestimating how much money engineers make,” Niall points out, but he likes that idea. That in every universe, him and Zayn would be together. He knows that’s not how the infinite universe theory works, but it feels like it should. Like there isn’t a universe where he and Zayn didn’t, at one point, cuddle in a blanket fort they’d spent all day making, just because. 

“Not you. You’d be the best.” Zayn says it so carelessly, so certainly, that Niall knows he’s blushing. 

“You’d be the architect, then,” he decides. “Dreaming so big. And I’d make your dreams happen.” 

This time, he can see Zayn smile, when he tips his head up to look at Niall. They can’t see the stars, from inside their hideaway, but Niall’s pretty sure they’re all in Zayn’s eyes anyway. “You already do that.” 


	11. Chapter 11

_**Prompt:** _ **_things you said when i was crying_ **

Niall’s on the floor when Zayn finds him, and he curses even as Zayn crouches down next to him. It’s so stupid, he’d hoped no one would find him in this corner of the arena, but of course Zayn did. 

“Niall?” Zayn’s gentle as he crouches down, and Niall turns his face away so he won’t see the tear tracks he knows is showing up on his face. He’s probably all blotchy. It’s not the worst Zayn’s seen him, but still, he hopes he doesn’t notice. 

“Zayn!” Niall says, keeping it light. “Fancy seeing you here." 

"Nialler,” Zayn repeats. Niall doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s giving him that gentle, focused look that makes Niall want to hug him and never look go. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Niall mutters again, and tries to shift so he can properly grin at Zayn, but it pulls at his leg and he can’t help but let out a grunt of pain and the tears that appear in the corners of his eyes. “Fucking hell.”

“Were you on your knee too much?” Zayn asks, and runs his fingers over his knee. Even that pressure is too much, and Niall winces away. “Okay, you need ice.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just sit here and I’ll be up in no time!" 

"Ice,” Zayn repeats. He gets to his feet, then looks down at Niall, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Okay, babe. Come on." 

"I can’t stand, Zayn,” Niall tells him. God, fuck this. He can’t even stand. 

“I know,” Zayn replies, and the next thing Niall knows Zayn’s hauling him up over his shoulder. It jostles his knee enough to make him bite his lip in pain, but Zayn’s holding him against him and once he’s up he’s so careful and Niall’s not saying a word. 


	12. Chapter 12

**_Prompt:_ _“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”_ **

Zayn unpacks the box carefully, slowly. Savoring every bit. It’s a ritual to him, more than anything else; unpacking everything in it. Spreading them out over the room, making sure everything in it is in good condition. It’s not something he indulges in often, not when anyone else might be there. But he’s alone in the flat today, and so he sits in the middle of his room, everything he’s collected over the years spread out around him.

It’s a lot of things. It’s comics, and action figures, and trading cards. It’s all sorts of memorabilia, everything he’s been able to find. It’s his pride and joy, even if no one knows about it because he’s a twenty-five year old with a job and a boyfriend and a life and having a superheroes obsession isn’t cute anymore. But here, when he’s alone…he picks up an Iron Man action figure, and a Red Skull. These aren’t the nice ones he has, the ones that are still in their original packaging and are actually worth a decent amount. These are the one he’s had since he was a kid, who went on adventures with him.

He sets up Red Skull, then Iron Man facing him, his repulsors out. Then, because he can’t not, he gets Captain America too, crouching under Iron Man’s beam with his shield ready to be raised to protect them both. Then of course he needs to add MODOK, and as long as he’s doing Avengers he gets out the Wasp, setting her on the villains’ other sides, her stings there. Then of course he needs Antman, at which point that’s really too many Avengers for this villain and he gets out an Enchantress, to fuck with them. He’s just setting up Dr Strange, because the heroes need a magic user to counter Enchantress, when the door to his room swings open and he freezes.

“Hey, have you seen the– _oh_.” Niall cuts himself off as he stare at Zayn. Zayn stares back. Dr. Strange is in his hands, all his shit spread out. He doesn’t think there’s a good way he can backtrack from here. Maybe if he just distracts Niall by blowing him right now, he won’t notice. Maybe–

“What do we have here?” Niall asks, and he’s grinning. Zayn sets Dr. Strange down gently. He might have gotten Zayn into trouble, but it’s not his fault. He’d have told Niall eventually. he thinks. Probably. He hopes their relationship would have gotten to that point, when Zayn could have slowly let Niall see he isn’t actually very cool, instead of it breaking all at once like this, in the most humiliating way possible.

“Um. It’s–like, I just–”

But Niall’s laughing, and picking his way over to Zayn. He bends down enough to brush his hand over Zayn’s cheek. “You really are such a geek, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Zayn admits, because it’s not like he can deny it now. “But like, I’m not obsessed or anything.”

“Uh-huh. I can see that.” Niall snorts, looking around the room, at the tableau Zayn’s set up. Why did he have to do this today? He’d known Niall was off, known that he might be coming over, and he’s had a key since Louis decided someone need to have their spare, and he’s still caught red handed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Hm?” Zayn’s stil processing that when Niall sits down next to him, folding his legs like they’re in kindergarten again. “Niall–”

“I never really got into superheroes,” Niall says, picking up Dr. Strange. “You’ll have to teach me. This one’s the one who’s going to be Benedict Cumberbatch, right? Doctor something?”

Zayn stares at him, but there’s only one thing to say. “I really love you.”

Niall grins, and it’s like all of Iron Man’s repulsors fired at once, like the brightest of the Infinity Gems. “Love you too. Now, I know Iron Man, because I’m not an idiot, but who’s she?”

“Wasp,” Zayn explains, and scoots closer to Niall, so their thighs are touching. Maybe this ritual doesn’t have to be totally alone.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Prompt: 'He looks like a real life leprechaun, I'm not dating him.'** _

Niall chuckles, and takes another sip of his green beer, ignoring the look Zayn gives him. It’s not the first time he’s been shot down, and it won’t be the last. 

“Come on,” the girl’s friend says, and they might think they’re quiet but they’re really not. Niall may have dodged a bullet. “No one’s saying anything about dating, it’s Saint Patrick’s day! You’ve got to hook up with an Irishman, it’s like, the law.” 

Niall makes a ‘told you so’ face at Zayn at that, and Zayn’s smile flickers, even though his hand’s tight around his own beer. Niall sort of wishes they could leave, but there’s no way to get around the girls gracefully, and he doesn’t want to make a scene of it. He just…wishes they could be quieter. Maybe not draw attention to the fact that he’s been turned down. 

“Not him,” the first girl goes on. Niall regrets ever buying her that drink, even if she does have great tits. he doesn’t need tits, he doesn’t need to hook up. He could have just had a nice St. Patrick’s Day drink with Zayn, which is all he ever needs. he’d even managed to get Zayn into a green blazer and a sequined top hat, which is an accomplishment he’s going to brag about forever. “His friend, sure. But not him.” 

Niall rolls his eyes as Zayn’s eyes narrow. It’s an occupational hazard of being friends with Zayn. Niall knows he’s cute, but no one’s cute next to Zayn. Niall doesn’t blame them. He sometimes has similar problems. It’s just, when one of your best mates is objectively and subjectively the most gorgeous person in the world, your standards change a little bit. Even if said best mate is glaring, hard. 

“I mean, did he really think he had a chance?” the girl goes on, tittering, and Niall winces. Now they’re just being cruel. 

“Fuck this shit,” Zayn mutters. Niall has an instant to wonder what’s happening, then suddenly Zayn’s next to him, and his hand’s on Niall’s chin, tilting it up, and his lips are on Niall’s. 

Not that Niall ever really considered it, but if he had, maybe, wondered about what it would be like to kiss Zayn, he might have thought it’d be tender, the sort of thing you sink slowly into and never come out, because that’s how Zayn is, all hidden depths under calm water. He didn’t think it’d be this fierce, solid press of his lips, like a declaration. 

Zayn holds it for a second, as Niall tries to figure out what the fuck is going on, then he decides he doesn’t much care, and grabs at Zayn’s hips to kiss him back, because why not, it’s Zayn. Zayn makes a noise Niall can’t interpret into his mouth, but then his hand slides around Niall’s neck, and Niall starts to sink, just like he thought. Zayn presses closer, and Niall didn’t expect that, so he stumbles back, into someone. 

She gasps, and Zayn breaks away from Niall to give her a sharp, hard grin. “Sorry!” he says, the snap he gets when he’s angry. Niall’s still putting his head back on, but he glances over his shoulder, and it’s the girls who were talking about him. "Don’t want anyone else getting a hold of my Irishman today, you know. They’re a precious commodity. ‘Specially one as good as this one.” He wraps his hand around NIall’s wrist, tugs him forward. “C’mon, Niall. Think you deserve some kisses.” 

He drags Niall out, past the girls, and Niall’s still coming out of the haze Zayn’s kiss left him in when they get outside, into the crowds of already-drunk partiers.

“Zayn?” Niall asks, once the fresh air’s hit and he can think again. “What was that?”  

Zayn stops, lets go of his wrist. He looks sheepish, and gorgeous, and a little ridiculous because of the hat but less ridiculous than he should. “I–you deserve better than that,” he mutter. “Them talking shit about you. She’d be fucking lucky to date you.” 

“So you kissed me to prove that to them?” Niall asks. That’s…not the worst thing in the world. Maybe not a lot better than the pitying looks the girls were giving him, but definitely better. 

“Well. And because you’re supposed to kiss an Irish person today.” Zayn gives a hopeful half-smile. “Can’t think of a better one than you.” 

Niall hums. Okay. That’s better. That’s–that’s Zayn wanting to kiss him, because he knows Zayn could have kissed any of the Irish people around, that are generally conveniently marked by their ‘kiss me I’m Irish’ paraphernalia. It’s nice, that Zayn picked him. 

“You’re a quarter Irish, yeah?” he asks. Zayn nods, his brow furrowing. 

Niall leans forward, pecks him on the cheek. “There’s a quarter kiss,” he murmurs. “And thanks. For defending me. Even though I didn’t need it.” 

“I mean it.” Zayn’s eyelashes are deadly at this distance, the somehow shy and fierce combination of his look. “You deserve the best. Don’t know why everyone doesn’t see it.” 

“Luck of the Irish,” Niall retorts, because he can’t think of anything else to say, when Zayn’s right there, and he doesn’t know exactly what he’s supposed to do right then. He doesn’t want to think about how he might have realized that the best is right in front of him, and clearly too much for Niall to ask for. 


	14. Chapter 14

The shower’s running in the back of Niall’s head, as he opens his computer. He feels great, better than he has in ages; it’s like his skin fits again after months of it being a little too tight. He laughs a bit to himself, as he opens twitter. He’s got such sex brain, and he doesn’t care. He deserves it.

He stretches just to appreciate that, then leans back into the pillows, breathes in. It smells like them, like sex and sweat and them, and usually he wants to throw sheets right into the wash after sex but he doesn’t mind this. Also, they’re at a hotel and he really doesn’t want to call for housekeeping.

Nothing much is happening on twitter—plenty of pictures of him in glasses still circulating, a bunch of flailing over Zayn’s new selfie, the one with the glasses and his white hair. Niall’s lips twist, as he looks at it. Vain prick, he thinks, rolling his eyes.

The water’s still running, as he hits the button on the top of his screen to change his header. He can feel the tug in him as he does it, but it’s been sitting there for so long, the five of them. The five of them, the band he loved, him and his boys against the world.

He hits a few buttons, and then—then they’re gone. It’s not the five of them, it’s the four of them. The four of them smiling on stage, and Niall bites his lip. It looks wrong. It’s too late to change because people will have noticed and it looks wrong. He shouldn’t have done this, or maybe he should have thought about it more, because it feels right now, but what if he regrets it later?

He’s too busy staring at the responses piling up to hear the water shut off, or the door open.

“Okay, babe?”

Niall turns, at the voice. Zayn’s got a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair tugged down, darkened by the water into a mottled grey. The water drips down his bare torso, over a bruise forming at his collarbone, and Niall can feel himself blush as he stares at it.

“Yeah,” he replies, after what he knows is a beat too long.

He knows Zayn noticed it, because he smirks before he wanders over to Niall’s bag rummages in it like its his right, pulls out a pair of sweats. It feels so much like old times, Zayn nicking some of his clothes because Zayn never had any clean ones, but now—it’s different.

It definitely feels different when Zayn climbs onto the bed next to Niall, settles onto it with their shoulders brushing. Niall can feel the point of contact red hot—which wasn’t always not the case before, but it’s different, now. Justified, or something.

“Whatcha doing?” Zayn asks, resting his chin on Niall’s shoulder. Different and the same, again.

“Changed my twitter header.” Niall turns his computer so Zayn can see.

He can feel as Zayn draws away, slightly, can see his brow draw together. “Zayn?” He prompts.

“Is there a reason?” Zayn asks, carefully. So careful with Niall, even though sometimes he doesn’t bother to be elsewhere. “Is there a reason this is happening now?”

“I…” Niall bites his lip as he thinks about it. It’s hard to think, when Zayn’s warm and flushed next to him, when he has the memory playing in the back of his head of them together. “It’s been denial, I think. I’m moving on. You aren’t in the band any more.” Zayn nods, opens his mouth to speak, but Niall keeps going. This isn’t a sad thing, even though it hurts. He won’t let it be. He has Zayn in ways he’d never dreamed he would, months, weeks, even days ago; Zayn’s happy in ways he hasn’t seen him for years. It hurts like physical therapy had hurt. Hurts like healing.

“Anyway, don’t need you there.” Carefully, he closes his computer, then reaches over to pick up the glasses Zayn had left there before he’d gone to shower. He opens them, slides them onto Zayn, which makes Zayn grin at him, the light catching in his eyes and making them sparkle like they shouldn’t be allowed to. “I’ve got you here, right?”

Zayn’s still smiling as he inches closer, presses his lips to Niall’s cheeks. “’Course, babe,” he murmurs. He pulls back, and Niall thinks he’s going to kiss him properly, which he wouldn’t mind at all, but instead Zayn reaches around him to pick up Niall’s glasses and slide him on his nose. “See? We match. Can’t miss that opportunity.”

“You only like me for my glasses, Malik,” Niall teases. Zayn laughs, loud and delighted, and Niall can feel everything settle in him as he leans over to kiss Zayn quiet.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Prompt: Zayn follows Niall back on Instagram** _

Niall doesn’t notice. he’d turned off notifications, because there are just too many, so he doesn’t even notice until he happens to be on Zayn’s Instagram–he likes to keep up with him, likes to see what he’s doing, likes the illusion he’s still there–and he sees that Zayn’s finally following people. He doesn’t expect to be one of them, honestly; Zayn has all sorts of new friends now, he knows, and that’s probably who he’s want to follow. 

But he still checks because, well. he’s interested. And maybe a little masochistic. 

But then there it is–his name. Right there, almost the first, after his sisters; him. Zayn is following him again. 

That probably means he should call Zayn, Niall thinks, staring at his phone. It’s like, a gesture. Something. It has to mean something. he should call him. Or calling is a lot of pressure, maybe texting. Or maybe not even texting, Zayn never really liked texts. 

Slowly, Niall goes back, finds Zayn’s main screen. Finds the latest picture he’d posted, another ridiculously hot selfie with his dog because all of Zayn’s selfies are ridiculously hot. It’s only a few hours old; Zayn must have been on recently. 

It takes more courage than Niall’s willing to admit, reaching down, pressing the button. But then the heart lights up, and Niall feels like he can breathe again. There. He’s made his next move. And maybe–maybe Zayn will reach back. 


	16. Chapter 16

_**Prompt: Leighton Meester's song 'LA'; "I'm calling to say I don't care/oh, no, I'm calling to say that I wish you were here."** _

It’s not conscious, when Zayn picks a house. He picks a house he likes, one with lots of light, with a room for him to record and a nice library and a graffiti room, with the sort of aesthetic he wants. At that point, when he bought it, he’d mostly thought he was never going to talk to any of the boys again, that they’d written him out of their history completely. So it’s not conscious, when he picks out the house, that it’s got the nice neat lines Niall likes. That it’s got a room that would be perfect for him to fill with all his instruments. That he can see Niall in every room, see his smile and his laughter filling it. He’s never going to see him again, he’d more or less resigned himself to that–it’s a house he likes, that’s all.

Time goes on. Zayn fills the house with other people, with his own stuff. He builds his life in LA, makes his own music. He launches an album. He doesn’t think much about Niall, who last he heard was off in Asia somewhere, backpacking around the world. He reconciles with Liam, meets up with him. Has an awkward double date with Harry that ends with them nodding cordially at each other, at least. Passes Louis on the street once and steals a glance at his son, looks up to find Louis looking at him, and smiles before he moves on. It’s as good as he’s going to get, he figures. Time and distance, and maybe it’ll be more.

Except with Niall, because Niall’s too far. Niall’s still too far, laying low or whatever, and his house is still missing something, and Zayn knows what it is. Knows it’s missing Niall’s laughter, and the way he fills a place with music. It’s missing the way Niall organizes Zayn’s shit whenever he visits because Zayn’s mess drives him insane, and how he uses Zayn like his own personal pillow.

It’s just–Zayn doesn’t get it, he thinks, one night when the house feels empty, after Rhino’s gone to bed. It’s not like Niall. Not like him to stay quiet like this. Not like him to not know what Zayn need from him, which is an asshole thing to think but true nevertheless, that Niall’s always known how to say the things Zayn can’t, when Zayn needs to be urged to talk. Zayn tops up his whiskey, leans back on his chair. He’s got a nice view of LA from here. His own little paradise. He’s got the house, the career, the friends. Good friends, new friends and old. He has a life.

But he’s half expected a call, after Niall had followed him on Instagram. Something after his RCA deal, after Pillowtalk. After Mind of Mine. After something. Niall’s the one who’s always built him up, and he didn’t–he didn’t think that would end, with him leaving. Somehow he’d never expected that. Not from Niall.

Zayn shakes his head, fumbles for his phone. This is a bad decision. He knows it’s a bad decision. He’s resisted this decision for so long. And he doesn’t care, he doesn’t. Or, it sucks, because in general he hates what happened to him and the boys, but he doesn’t care specifically. He did all this without knowing Niall was there for him. Without knowing he was rooting for him. He doesn’t need Niall, and so he presses the call button, and lets it ring. Let it never be said he chickens out of his bad decisions.

He does know Niall, though, and so he’s pretty sure it’ll go to voicemail. Niall avoids, it’s what he does. It’s what he’s been doing with Zayn. He’s so ready to leave a voicemail he’s not even sure what to say when instead of a mechanized tone, the phone is answered with a, “Hello?”

“I don’t care.” It’s the first thing he can think to say, and it’s the worst, he knows, because it’s right and it’s wrong all at once.

“Um. Who is this?” It’s loud on the other side, like Niall’s in a bar. Zayn doesn’t even know where he is. What country he’s in. What timezone. He must be surrounded by people though, he’s always surrounded by people.

“Wow. Didn’t think you’d forget me that easily,” Zayn snorts, and even through the noise on Niall’s side he can hear the pained sound Niall makes, which must be when he realized.

“Zayn?”

“Didn’t check your caller id?” Zayn asks, nastily, then sighs. He can’t be nasty, not to Niall. He didn’t mean it. He’s just tired and his house is empty and it’s been so long since he talked to Niall. “Sorry. If you want to hang up, it’s okay.” It won’t be, but he can say that. Can give Niall that.

“No! No. Just, give me a sec.” Niall’s saying something, then the noise fades, a door clicking shut. “Sorry. Out with some people, got a bit loud.”

“Don’t shut yourself up–”

“I’m outside,” Niall interrupts him, and Zayn leans back. He can’t do it. He can’t not care. He can’t not want Niall happy and safe and smiling. “So. Um. What don’t you care about?”

“Nothing, apparently.” Zayn tips his head back, looking up at the stars. Niall loves the stars, could tell him all about them. “I thought I didn’t. I was calling to tell you that, but I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Zayn tells him, reflexively.

“It is,” Niall admits. He’s got the quiet tone he only uses when he’s nervous. When he’s dealing with things he can’t control. “I should have called you before.”

“Whatever.” Zayn finds he doesn’t want to talk about that. Doesn’t want to get angry, when he has NIall’s voice in his ear. “Where are you now?”

“Bangkok. It’s sick! We didn’t get to appreciate it at all, Zayn.” Zayn smiles, at the enthusiasm in Niall’s voice.

“I’m glad you’re getting a taste of it.”

“Yeah.” Niall goes quiet again. “I’ve been listening to your album. It’s really good, Zayn.” Zayn lets out a single, harsh breath. He didn’t know how much he was waiting to hear that. To hear Niall tell him that. “Heard it all over the radios, too. You’re everywhere. Gonna be as big as One Direction.”

Zayn laughs. “Nah.”

“Sure,” Niall says staunchly, and fuck, how could Zayn ever think he didn’t care?

“I miss you.” It comes out of him unbidden, and he’d always said he’d keep his pride with the boys, that he’d make them bend first because he’d tried and it was their turn, but–it’s Niall. Niall’s always been the exception.

Niall makes another one of those sounds. “I should have called, I know. I wanted to. When I saw you doing so well. But I…would you believe me if I said I didn’t know what to say?”

Zayn snorts. “Yeah, actually.”

“Then I didn’t know what to say.” It gets a smile out of Zayn, of course it does. No one makes him smile like Niall, no one ever has. “It hurt, Zee. It really did. I thought we were in it until the end. That we were gonna go out with a bang, together.” Zayn tries to think of something to say, but Niall’s still talking. “I know why you left, I get it–I get it more now, I think, after being out–and I’m glad you’re happy. But it hurt. And…”

“And what?” Zayn urges, when Niall stops talking. He can do this too. Be Niall’s support, still.

“And I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me,” Niall admits.

“I always want to hear from you.” He waits, then adds, before he thinks better of it, “I always want to see you. I got a house, in LA. Think you’d like it.”

“Yeah?” He can actually hear Niall’s smile, and it feels like it’s setting him on fire, warming him from his toes to his head. “I was thinking about heading to LA soon, for a bit. I could stop by.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll let you know my plans.” There’s more noise from Niall’s side. “I should go back in, I think Eoghan wants a second in pool.”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll talk to you later.” Once more, it comes out without thinking. “Love you.”

The smile’s still in Niall’s voice as he replies. “Love you too, Zayn. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” Zayn hangs up before Niall can, then stares at his phone, then back up at the sky, at the endless expanse of the night sky. The house feels fuller already, knowing that someday, Niall will be there.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Prompt:** ** **things you didn’t say at all** ** _

“Where are you going?” Louis demands, before Zayn can slip properly out the door. He curses lowly, but he’s not surprised, really. They’re all a little too codependent to let anyone go without keeping tabs on them. Especially on a Friday night. But, he’d hoped to get out on his own this time. Or maybe he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d lingered, so Louis would notice, so then he’d have to turn around and face Louis on the couch–and Niall next to him.

“Date,” Zayn explains, simply. Louis’s eyebrows go up. Niall’s gaze flits to Zayn, does a quick once over, then goes back to his eyes.

“With who?” Louis asks, sing-song. Zayn meets Louis’s eyes, but he can see Niall watching him. He doesn’t know when he started noticing how Niall watches him, how it’s different then how he looks at the other boys, but it’s obvious once he’s noticed.

“Some girl I met in Art class,” Zayn replies. “She’s cute. Smart.”

“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” Louis teases. “Right, Niall?”

Tell me not to go, Zayn wants to yell. Tell me that you have a counter offer. 

But Niall just smiles, bright and playful as usual. “Yeah,” he agrees, and toasts Zayn with his beer bottle. “Have fun, mate.”

Hell. “I will,” Zayn retorts, and shuts the door behind him.  But he lingers, for a second, and Louis’s not as quiet as he thinks he is.

“You–”

“Sounds like a great girl!” Niall repeats, stubbornly. Zayn leaves before he can hear any more.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Some Ziall feels after the Fallon performance:** _

_Great job out there!_

Niall looks at the text, then shakes his head, deletes it. It’s too much for an opening line. It sounds too much like something he’d have sent a year ago.

_I saw Fallon. Looked good!_

And now that’s too little, too curt. It sounds like Niall did what he’s doing now, sitting on a couch on a tropical island fussing over a simple text. A text he doesn’t even have to send–there’s no real obligation, he knows. He’s almost certain Louis won’t be sending anything. He doesn’t have to. It just, he doesn’t know, feels polite. To acknowledge him. To tell Zayn he saw him stand on a stage by himself and own it.

_Did you ever need us at all?_

Niall deletes that one quickly. It’s what he wants to ask, but he can’t just say that. Maybe, someday–maybe, in a few years, he’ll be able to ask that. Maybe he’ll find the courage. But he can’t do it now. He’s not Louis, or even Zayn, to throw the questions they want to ask right out there. Did you need us? Were you always just biding your time? Did you ever love us? Did you ever love me?

Niall shakes his head. Everyone else is still crashed out in their rooms, but they’ll be up soon, probably. He doesn’t want them to see him doing this. He’s not sure why; they’re his best friends, but this feels private. He doesn’t want other people to see how stressed this text is making him. They’d all been especially distracting yesterday, loud and boisterous and feeding him drinks, and he’d tried not to think about how it might be because they were taking his attention off the TV.

It’s not like Niall hadn’t known some of them would go solo eventually. He’d even known Zayn would go solo eventually, because it would be a waste if he didn’t. And he’d been really preparing for it for almost a year, ever since Zayn left. He doesn’t resent Zayn for it, not really. Zayn should make the music he wants. Should do what he wants. He knows that. And seeing him on that stage, hearing him sing…Somehow Niall had forgotten, just what it looked like to see Zayn sing when he really wanted to, when he meant it. Forgotten how it stole his breath, how it made him want to stare stupidly. Made him do stupid things like feel the need to text Zayn to tell him how well he’d done.

_Sick song, mate! Nailed it!_

Fucking hell, maybe he should add another exclamation point while he’s being stupidly hearty. Zayn won’t be fooled by that. Zayn was never fooled by that. Niall groans, closes his eyes for a second. What are you supposed to say to your ex-bandmate who you haven’t spoken to for a year on the day after his first live solo performance? What do you say to your friend, who you haven’t spoken to in a year, on the day after he stood up in front of national TV and smashed it? Someone else might say everything, might say ‘you looked gorgeous, you’re amazing, you sounded beautiful and i knew you could sing like that i’m so glad everyone else does now too, but did it have to be at his cost?’ Say 'I still love you, I always loved you, do you still love me?’ Say 'I want you back in my life. I need you back. But you don’t need me anymore, if you ever did, and I don’t know what to do with that’.

But that’s not Niall. Niall doesn’t know how to say that. Niall hasn’t known what to say for a year, so he hasn’t said anything at all. Not when Liam started talking to Zayn again. Not when Harry sent that email. Not for all the times Louis’s glared at nothing at all and they all knew what he was thinking of. Not even when Pillowtalk came out, when Niall listened to it and closed his eyes and imagined Zayn singing in his ear on the bus, imagined that it was him eager to share one of his songs with Niall, the two of them leaning over his notebook and Niall picking out a melody on his guitar to try it out, so close Niall could imagine just leaning into him and never letting go.

But now…Niall had seen Zayn’s face, on the TV screen. Seen the smile, the nerves in it, the pride. He can’t not tell Zayn how well he’d done, how amazing he is. It’s not in Niall not to. Not when he remembers Zayn’s nerves before shows, not when he’s hugged Zayn into smiling before shows. Not when Zayn did need him, once, to remind him to tell the world what he could do.

_you were amazing. Always knew you would be. Love you._

He hits send before he can second guess himself, and watches the 'delivered’ notification pop up. That was probably too much too. Maybe Zayn doesn’t even have his number any more. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear from Niall. Should he have said love? Was that overkill? Are they there still? Zayn had sounded annoyed in interviews, talking about their silence, but he’d said he’d answer…

Niall’s phone buzzes, and he fumbles as he picks it up. It’s probably someone else. Probably his mum checking in, or something.

Except there it is, the notification, 1 message from Zayn. Niall swallows. He hasn’t seen that notification for months. Not since Zayn stopped trying.

_Ah thanks bro! Glad you liked it! I’m glad to be on stage again, missed it. Love you too! x_

There are the dots, like Zayn’s still typing. Niall’s trying to even out his breathing, but he finds it’s not even hard. It’s Zayn. It’s still Zayn, and the way he’s always made Niall calm.

_We could, like, meet up? Next time you’re in LA? Got some songs I want you to hear. x_

Niall stares at the screen. Zayn just says that, like always. Says what’s in his heart, when Niall couldn’t. He knows the bravery that took. Bravery, like standing on a stage all on his own, and filling it with just him. Bravery he always had, and probably didn’t need them before, but Niall wants to think he helped. Wants to think he can be brave too.

In the end, it’s Zayn, and it’s always been easy with him.

_yeah. I’d like that. So, what’ve you been up to?_

Niall hits send, and waits for a reply.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Prompt: reacting to the other one crying** _

Niall finds Zayn in the bathroom of the hotel, his back pressed against the vanity. His head’s ducked, his hands clenched over his knees like he would have them in his hair if it wouldn’t fuck up his stylists’ work. It’s weird. It’s the first time Niall’s seen him in person in actual years, and somehow it’s also no time at all. Zayn’s still Zayn, still has the same arched line of his neck, the same fall of his hair even if it’s a different cut. 

“Hey.” 

Zayn’s head jerks up. His eyes are lined in red, but Niall’s not sure if he was crying or not, and even if he was, his expression goes into something painfully open for a second. “Niall?” He blinks, like he’s expecting Niall to be a hallucination. Then he swallows, and that bored indifference he tries so hard and fails so much to wear comes on. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“Yeah, I just decided last minute.” Niall already being in town. Zayn’s name on the program, and Niall somehow not being able to stay away. 

“And you might not have told me anyway,” Zayn fills in, his gaze too sharp. Niall gulps. Zayn’s always known him too well, and lashed out when he was defensive. “If I had been able to go on.” 

There’s still time, Niall knows. The concert’s not done yet, if Zayn feels better, decides if he can go on. But he doesn’t say that. “I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“Yeah, I’m great.” Zayn waves his hand. “This is exactly where I wanted to be before a show. It’s my new method, didn’t you know?” His mouth twists, still pretty but harsh. “Go ahead, make fun.” 

“Zayn.” Niall ignores Zayn’s defensiveness, settles down next to him on the floor. Zayn’s still watching him warily, like he’s not sure if Niall’s going to lash out. Maybe Niall would have, if it were a different situation. If Zayn weren’t so Zayn. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh so you care?” 

“You know I do.” Niall tried not to. Then he tried to pretend he didn’t. But then he heard Zayn wasn’t going on, and he knew what was happening, and he’d realized that all his pretending didn’t mean his feet weren’t taking him to Zayn’s hotel. He’ll always care about Zayn. 

“I do?” 

“You should,” Niall bumps their shoulders, tries to smile. “Lots of different emotions towards you, to be sure, but I care.” 

“Nice of you.” But Zayn’s not as sharp, as defensive. It’s not done. They need to talk more, as little as Niall likes talking things out. But now’s not the time. 

Now, Niall chooses his words carefully. “You know, I’ve–if you want to talk…” 

“I really don’t.” Zayn tips his head back.

“Whatever you need.” Niall knows, after so much soul searching and hundreds of miles, that he didn’t always give Zayn that, before. That what he’d needed and what Zayn had needed were different enough that he might not have noticed when they diverged. “I just…want you to be happy, Zayn.” 

“So do I.” Slowly, Zayn scoots over, so their sides are pressed together. “I am.” 

“Yeah.” Zayn still smells the same, still feels the same. Like the same boy Niall could use as his anchor for so many years, who he could find refuge in when his world got too crazy. “Can you just–can we stay here?” He blinks, those big eyes and pretty eyelashes and all the emotions behind them, the heart Zayn’s never known how to hide. 

“Yeah.” Niall shifts, so he can put his arm around Zayn. They still fit together. Maybe differently, but they still fit. “We can stay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked these? Want to discuss or see more as they're posted? Comment or come chat on [ tumblr](http://zaynandhisboys.tumblr.com/) or go to the full archive at [ my drabble blog](http://stormdirection.tumblr.com/)!


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